


Excuse Me Sir, Do You Have a Moment to Talk About the Environment?

by MeganWrites



Series: Prompts [2]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Activist, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 18:16:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5596018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeganWrites/pseuds/MeganWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey is having a bad day, then he meets Ian, who is just trying to save the planet.</p><p>Prompt fic!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Excuse Me Sir, Do You Have a Moment to Talk About the Environment?

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from [goddamit-mir](http://goddamit-mir.tumblr.com):
> 
>  
> 
> _Ian is an animal activist against cruelty and he is distributing flyers in front of a restaurant / shop / idk that is known to treat animals badly. Mickey wants to come in and Ian decides to convince him not to. cute Ian, very passionate abt environnement and puppies and hungry Mickey who just want ribs or something but stops to listen to the crazy cute dude with red hair ahaha (i'm working on the COP21 I'm sorry, I feel inspired)_
> 
>  
> 
> Went a little off that but I hope you still enjoy it :)

It’s only ten in the morning and Mickey’s day has already been fucking terrible.

It started early with Yevgeny screaming at the top of his lungs and Mickey hauling himself out of bed to take care of the kid. Sure, Yevgeny has been starting to grow on him ever since Terry got locked away for good, (he even liked Svetlana more since she agreed that their marriage was strictly for the greencard). But that didn’t mean he wanted to wake up at the crack of dawn for the kid. It had only gone downhill from there. He burnt his breakfast, got in a fight with the mailman, and Iggy told him that his moving company scam was dead.

Which left Mickey without a fucking income.

The worst of it is that through it all, it is blistering hot outside. The kind of hot that leaves a layer of sticky sweat all over Mickey’s skin, making every shift of his muscles awkward and uncomfortable.

Mickey left the house as soon as he could, hopping on the El and not caring where he ends up. He just knows that he needs to get the fuck away for a little awhile before he puts a hole through the wall - again. He sits for a long time, watching the city fly by and tries not to listen to the hordes of people cycling in and out. It’s calming, for awhile. Eventually all the buildings start to look the same and there’s a baby crying in the back corner. It’s enough to make Mickey’s irritation come prickling back. He gets off the train at the next stop, shoving his hands in his pockets and making his way down the streets.

He doesn’t recognize this part of Chicago. It looks too hipster for him to have ever spent any real time here. All he can see is young people with beanies (even though it’s a fucking hundred degrees) and thick framed glasses sauntering past.

He must be by the University.

It doesn’t exactly help Mickey calm down, but he tries. The campus is  nice after all and no one is even sparing him a glance. He’s content with that. Content to wander through the campus and manmade parks, completely invisible to everyone else. Unexpectedly, he does start to relax a bit. He settles on a bench, covered by spotty shade from the branches above. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, letting the bustle of the campus become white noise as he clears his mind.

It’s still too hot. The kind of heat that should be exclusively for tropical areas. But there’s a cool wind every few seconds that makes the temperature just right.

His peace is disturbed when he hears a group of people chanting something. It's becoming louder and louder. Mickey opens his eyes a sliver to take a peek at the slow paced group of students holding up signs and walking closer. Mickey sighs and sits up, accepting that this is the end of his peace and quiet as the protesters come closer. Mickey gives the protesters the slightest bit of his attention. Some of them are carrying a sign with the logo of a semi-popular restaurant chain and a red circle with a line through it over top. Others have signs that have various versions of the same thing that basically says: _'this restaurant is a shithole that treats animals like garbage, don’t eat there.'_

Mickey has never eaten there in his life so it doesn’t have much of an effect on his life.

And honestly, he’s a little too focused on making sure he gets an okay life to worry about animals on a farm some place. Call it selfish or naive or whatever-the-fuck, but Mickey doesn’t have the luxury of being an activist. Being able to choose where you eat and shop is a fucking privilege that Mickey will never have.

But still, he stays on the bench. He watches as the group stumbles past with some generic slogan they're chanting out (originality in protests died out a long ass time ago apparently). He pays attention like everyone else, makes them feel like they’re being listened to. Mostly, Mickey takes the opportunity to people watch a little bit.

All of them look pretty typical. Same fucking beanies and thick framed glasses as everyone else on the campus. He bets a bunch of them grew up in a mansion then got to University, smoked a joint, and decided the environment mattered.

Mickey hates half of them on fucking principle.

Mickey’s favorite part of people watching is that is gives him an excuse to check out guys. He knows he doesn’t need an excuse anymore, he’s not in the closet. (Fuck, the whole Southside got a nice screaming introduction to how much Mickey likes cock). But it’s still habit.

There are a few guys that Mickey takes pause at. One guy is tall, a little on the slimmer side, with dark skin that make his blue eyes pop. Another guy is around Mickey’s height and the muscles on him are another level. He could take or leave the face, but he’s sure the abs would make up for it. The third guy doesn’t seem too special, nothing too outstanding. But he's got these chocolate-y brown eyes and a soft smile. Too soft for someone like Mickey, but that doesn’t mean he can’t still look. The last guy Mickey notices might be the best, he’s not sure why because in a lot of ways he looks average. He’s tall but not as tall as the first guy, he’s muscular but not as muscular as the second guy. He has a nice smile but it’s missing the softness of the third guy.

But he’s still the one that Mickey can’t quite tear his eyes away from.

Mickey drags his eyes down his body, taking in the lean muscles and the way he walks tall - confident. The guys t-shirt (the generic t-shirt that everyone in the group is wearing) is tight, like he purposefully picked a size too small. It accentuates his arms and chest beautifully. His jaw is square and jawline sharp, lips thin and his eyes look dark from the distance Mickey is at - it makes him wonder what colour they really are. The thing that stands out the most, that drew Mickey’s gaze to this guy in the first place, is his hair. It’s bright and fire red, a shorter cut and stylishly mussed. He never thought much of the ginger thing before, but on this guy, it fucking works.

Mickey’s fucking curious now. He wants this guy to glance over, catch Mickey’s eyes. Maybe slip away from the group and drag Mickey off to a nearby bathroom stall. But the guy doesn’t look at Mickey, doesn’t look anywhere but forward as he continues to chant. Committed to the fucking cause.

It’s a damn shame, it really is. But once he’s gone past and the group is turning the corner, Mickey pulls his gaze away.

 

 

*****

 

 

About an hour goes by while Mickey sits on the bench. He decides to wander through the park for awhile after that. He doesn’t feel like going back home yet. He gets to the edge of the park and accepts that maybe it’s time to make his way back to the El. He’s not looking forward to stepping back into his house and being bombarded by Svetlana with questions about _‘how are we going to make money now’_ and undoubtedly, _‘why were you so fucking stupid’_.

She’s ruthless when she wants to be, and when her livelihood is at risk she always wants to be.

Mickey sees the sign for a coffee place not too far up. He knows it will be overpriced and still shitty, but he could use a fucking coffee. He pulls out his wallet, makes sure he has at least a ten dollar bill in there, and makes up his mind. He’s about to enter to shop when he feels a heavy tap on his shoulder.

“Excuse me, are you going in there?”

Mickey fixes his best scowl, ready to tell off whoever the hell thought they could touch him, and turns around. Except his scowl dissipates the second he recognizes the redhead from the protesters earlier. Mickey thinks he should probably just tell the guy off, but then he starts noticing all these little things about the guy he didn’t see before.

His cheeks have a light pink flush that matches his lips. There's a light dusting of freckles over his nose, chin, and forehead. And his eyes are green with flecks of gold near the pupil.

Mickey doesn’t want to tell him off.

Mickey presses his lips together and nods, not trusting himself to speak right now. Especially considering how he kind of wants to impress this guy and Mickey knows that when he talks it doesn’t impress a single fucking person.

“They test products on animals,” the guy blurts out a little loudly and cringes. It’s obvious that isn’t his regular spiel. The guy scratches the back of his neck  as Mickey admires how the light pink flush on his cheeks becomes something darker.

“The food?” Mickey asks, glancing to the coffee shop and giving the guy a skeptical look.

“No, well, kind of.” The guy fumbles over his words and shakes his head, “I fucked up. Okay, uhm, I’m Ian. Would it be alright if I explained to you the problem with supporting small chain companies like this, and how your money for that coffee supports the torture of innocent creatures around the world and the destruction of our environment.”

Mickey blinks. He really does not give a flying fuck about any of this, not even slightly. But Ian is fucking hot. Mickey nods and crosses his arms, readying himself for what will no doubt be one of the more boring lectures he’s ever heard.

Ian smiles, looks a little relieved and less nervous, “Alright, cool. Have you heard of the big five companies running America?” Mickey shakes his head. “Oh, okay, I have a pamphlet.” Ian pulls a pamphlet out of his back pocket and hands it over to Mickey. Mickey takes it and raises his eyebrows at Ian, hoping to convey that he has no idea what to do with a pamphlet.

Ian has the decency to look a little embarrassed again and circles to stand next to Mickey. He reaches over to open the pamphlet and point to one of the companies. He starts telling Mickey about some big time company - Mickey’s definitely heard of them before, at least - and how this company and four others essentially own all of the business chains and companies in the United States. Apart from a privately owned local businesses, that is. Mickey zones out a bit, only catching what Ian says here and there, instead choosing to turn his head and focus on Ian.

Ian’s warm and so close, close enough that if Mickey were to tilt his head up a bit he could probably kiss Ian. He can see every little detail on his face and it’s beautiful. But more than that, there’s something about the way Ian is speaking. It’s clear that despite his earlier stumbles this is something he is really passionate about. He’s animated and focused, pointing at the pamphlet for emphasis and then drawing Mickey’s attention back to him.

If Mickey thought he looked good before then he had no fucking clue how beautiful Ian could be.

“So while this particular coffee chain is not the culprit for destroying the rainforests, robbing Americans of their drinking water, and keeping rabbits as test subjects for drugs and beauty products. It is part of a large corporation that is the culprit. By going in there and buying a coffee you are giving money to a corporation that has no concern for you and our planet's future.” Ian ends his talk with a determination in his eyes that Mickey can’t tear his gaze away from.

“Shit,” Mickey says.

Ian blinks, shaking himself out of his nearly trance like state from talking for so long. He gives Mickey a small lopsided smile, “Yeah, shit.”

“You know your stuff, man,” Mickey says, smiling and still holding the pamphlet.

Ian shrugs, “It’s important, y’know?”

Mickey nods, despite his previous reluctance to hear what all the protesting was really about, he finds that he actually agrees with a lot of what they’re saying. It’s kind of messed up that some rich assholes can get away with stomping all over everyone else. Mickey’s never liked big wig corporations anyways.

Ian’s still standing next to Mickey, watching him openly with a smile. Mickey knows that this is around the time at Mickey thanks Ian for what he had to say or asks what he can do to help. Either way it’s the end of their time together.

Mickey chews on his lower lip and sucks on his teeth. He’s doesn’t want to say goodbye to Ian yet.

“So, say I wanna take someone out for a coffee, get to know ‘em a bit better. Where should I be goin’?”

It’s the most Mickey’s said since Ian started talking to him. Mickey’s pretty sure what he is asking is so fucking obvious, but Ian still seems to completely miss it.

Ian steps back and glances around the street, “Are they meeting you here? There’s a place about a block away that I really like. It was started by an Alumni a few years back. Very environmentally conscious and they make amazing coffee.”

Mickey sighs and nods when Ian looks back at him. He waves politely and shoves his hands back in his pockets as he starts to walk. He should have known better than to try. It wasn’t exactly rejection but it still fucking stings. Mickey pauses a second later, glancing back at where Ian standing with the sign he was carrying earlier propped against the wall just behind him. Ian tries to talk to a couple of frat boys walking out of the coffee place only to get a rude shut down. Mickey smiles and laughs under his breath when Ian flips them off as soon as their backs are turned.

Ian is something else.

Mickey breathes in and decides fuck it. If this shit goes south, it’s not like he has to see Ian again.

Mickey strides back down the street and stops in front of Ian. Ian smiles brightly, a little surprised to see Mickey again, “Oh, hey.”

“When are you done with this shit?” Mickey asks, blunt as ever, and then curses under his breath. It’s his turn to flush red when he stammers, “Not that this is shit, it’s good, I’m just a fuckin’... I mean, when are you done your shift with all the protesting shit?” Mickey curses again but decides to leave it. This is why he tries not to talk around guys like Ian.

Ian is still smiling when he says, “Anytime, I guess. Don’t really have to be here.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Mickey licks his lips and nods, time to be brave or whatever. “So, there’s this coffee shop about a block away, feel like going with me?”

Ian’s smile morphs until a full grin, “Wait, really? Like a coffee date?”

Mickey raises his eyebrows and nods. Did this guy need a parade to get the memo?

“Shit, I did not realise. Wow, sorry, you’re just -” Ian shakes his head, “I saw you sitting on the bench earlier and you were really cute. I saw you checking out Todd and I don’t look anything like Todd. But then you were here and I was such an idiot so I didn’t think - wow, yeah.”

Mickey frowns, “Yeah, like… yes?”

Ian nods, “Yes, definitely. Coffee.”

Mickey shakes his head but he’s grinning now too. Ian is without a doubt one of the biggest dorks Mickey has ever met. But Mickey kind of likes that.

They get coffees, sipping at them slowly and talking for hours. Ian has to leave after awhile and Mickey knows he should have been back home hours ago. They step outside and walk a little ways before it’s time to part ways. Ian snags Mickey’s hand, scrawling his phone number there with a sharpie. Then he leans down to leave a sweet kiss on Mickey's lips.

Ian walks away without a word, but he stills looks back and waves. Mickey waves back and then looks down at the black numbers inked on the back of his hand. He smiles, his lips still tingle. It’s been a good day.

**Author's Note:**

> I wanna say that I know it's pretty easy to guess about companies I might be referring to... but I have worked in a legal department and that makes me terrified to name names... ever. So take from the vagueness what you will.
> 
> Second fic posted today... trying to get them out before the entire fandom is cut down by 90%.....
> 
>  
> 
> [tumblr, let's chill](http://meganwwrites.tumblr.com)


End file.
